A Gradual Process
by marialisa
Summary: Time doesn't heal, you just get used to him not being there anymore. Angsty little one shot.


**Authors Note: **This one shot was inspired by **2am** by **foxdvd **and so I thank her for the idea, and the encouragement to post this. Similarly, I thank **SallyJetson**, **Elainhe **and **notesofwimsey** for their encouragement and their thought provoking comments and a special extra thankyou to **SallyJetson** for the beta.

I'm posting this with a sense of trepidation...I have a feeling it may not be too popular. It's angsty with, I hope, a positive ending. Let me know what you think.

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**A Gradual Process**

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It had been a gradual process; the fading of her grief from an intense physical ache to a quiet sadness. After he had died she had lost count of the number of times she had been told that 'time was a great healer'. She knew now that anyone who said this had never lost someone close to them, because time hadn't healed anything. 

But what it had done was help her get used to his absence, and now she had stopped reaching for the phone to call him to tell him about whatever good, bad or funny thing had just happened; she no longer expected to hear his key in the door at the end of the day; and she was used to the empty space he'd left in their bed, and in her heart.

Now when she thought about him it was with a feeling of regret at all he was missing and at what she and their son had lost. And somewhere along the way she had started to feel happy again; started to feel that their life was returning to as close to normal as it was ever going to get without him in it.

The sound of a key in the front door bought with it the sound of a child's feet running over hardwood floors.

'Uncle Don, Uncle Don.'

He'd been the one to tell her that Danny was dead; the one she had called time after time in the middle of the night when she couldn't cope with the pain; the one who had held her for long hours while she cried; the one who had stood and watched as she had destroyed a dinner service when the pain was replaced by an indescribable rage, and then swept it up and bought her a replacement. She sensed, without wanting to analyse it too closely, that by allowing him to help her she'd helped him cope with his own loss.

'Hey Joe.'

He was laughing as he tried to untangle himself from the arms and legs of an excited three year old.

'Park, park, park, park.'

He gave up trying to untangle himself and instead swept the excited little boy up into his arms. He met her eyes.

'I think he wants to go to the park.'

Her eyes, in Danny's face, turned to look at her.

'Mommy, I want to go to the park. Pleeease.'

She pretended to consider for a moment, a mock frown on her face.

'Well...I _suppose_ so, as long as Uncle Don doesn't mind.'

Two smiles greeted her words. Joe's jacket, his favourite cap, the one that Don had bought him in the spring, and his baseball glove were all found. She watched from the window as they headed down the street, Don stooping as he walked so he could hear Joe's excited babble. It made her happy to see them together...

...and she wondered when that had happened? When had Don stopped being Danny's best friend, Joe's godfather, her lifeline, and become instead an indispensable part of her and Joe's life?

She moved through the apartment, idly picking up, tidying away, rearranging, thinking. When he was there she felt happy; when he wasn't, a piece of her was missing. It was as simple and as complicated as that.

She had no idea when that had happened and she had absolutely no idea what she was supposed to do now; whether she should say something; whether he felt the same...

A knock at the front door surprised her and she glanced quickly at the clock, shocked to see that two hours had passed. She opened it to see Don, his arms full of a sleeping Joe, his eyes offering an apology.

'Sorry Linds, he ran himself ragged.'

She led the way to Joe's bedroom, and watched as Don placed him gently on the bed before standing back to let her undress him and settle him down. When she had finished she stood for a moment at the door, watching him sleep, remembering how she and Danny used to watch him sleep. Danny had had so many dreams for his son, made so many plans.

She didn't realise she was crying until she felt the tears rolling down her face.

Two strong arms reached for her and held her close, his hand stroking her hair, his chin resting on the crown of her head. For a long time they stood like that, until the sadness eased. She moved her head so that she could look at him.

'Sorry, it's the littlest things...'

But some disturbance in the atmosphere, a shift of something intangible had occurred. The comfort he always bought her was still there but now there was something else...a fluttering inside her of emotions she'd thought she'd buried over two years ago when she'd buried Danny.

His eyes darkened and she knew he felt it too.

She reached out with one hand and gently cupped his face. His breath hitched as her fingers softly traced the line of his jaw; she felt him tense as she grew bolder and began to trace the contours of his lips; first the upper lip and then the lower. He raised his hand slowly and covered hers, their fingers interlaced as he bought her hand back to his mouth and pressed a soft kiss into its palm.

The touch of his lips on her skin stripped away the shields they had both been using. His eyes met hers and in them she saw the promise of a new life, together, built on the love from the past.


End file.
